little head. "I said could I take mine home," Jimmie mumbled,
fishing a tight-folded sheet of paper from his pocket.

"I'll write it for you," Rose-Ellen offered. She sat down and
began the letter, with Jimmie telling her what he wanted to say.

"But the real honest thing to do will be to tell her you didn't
write it yourself," Grandma said pityingly.

"They have stories and games at night," Jimmie said, changing the
subject. "She said to bring Dick and Rose-Ellen."

Dick and Rose-Ellen were too tired for stories and games that
night. They tumbled into bed as soon as supper was done, and had
to be dragged awake for breakfast. Not till a week's picking had
hardened their muscles did they go to the Center.

When they did go--Jimmie limping along with his clipped head
tucked sulkily between his shoulders as if he were not really
proud to take them-they found the place alive with fun. Besides
the three girls and the woman, there was a young man from a
near-by university. He was organizing ping-pong games and indoor
baseball for the boys and girls and even volleyball for some
grown men who had come. Everyone was busy and everyone happy.

"It's slick here, some ways," Dick said that night.

"For a few weeks," Daddy agreed.

"If it wasn't for the misery in my back, it wouldn't be bad,"